Suicide
by Sanguinary
Summary: Everyone commits suicide. Set after the Gift.
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Breath  
AUTHOR: Sanguinary  
COPYRIGHT: June 01, 2001  
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.  
SERIES: Suicide  
RATING: PG 13   
CATEGORY: Horror   
SUMMARY: Everyone commits suicide.  
  
~~  
  
Breath.  
  
She's dead. He watched her fall, watched her hit the ground.   
  
Breath.  
  
He remembers how she leapt, how graceful she was. It was as if she had been made to fly, had   
been invented for that one reason. His hand shakes, spilling some of the mixture. It burns his   
skin.  
  
Breath.  
  
The bitter taste of cyanide in his mouth. It's burning his insides, leaving ragged remains   
behind. Soon he'll be gone. Soon he'll be like her, lying in the cold ground.  
  
Breath.  
  
The glass slips from his hand, liquid cascading from it. It's checkout time for Rupert Giles.  
  
Stop.  



	2. Spike: Dust

  
  
He's a drunken, bitter mess.  
  
Lying on the floor of his crypt blinking, still filled with shock.  
  
They've all stopped coming to see him. They've got their own grief to deal with. And if he   
doesn't want to do anything...  
  
He hasn't changed his clothes, wearing only the rags of what remains.   
  
The booze drips down the side of the bottle and he is suddenly reminded of her form as it   
leapt though the air.  
  
There is not hell invented that can equal this.   
  
He throws open the door. As the light cascades in, he begins to laugh.  
  
Then, nothing.  
  
  



	3. Dawn: Shine

Shine.  
  
The razor gleams in the harsh bathroom light.   
  
She shouldn't. Buffy didn't save her so she could kill herself. She should walk away.  
  
But she won't.  
  
Drip drop as her blood cascades down the bathtub walls. The pain hurts, but it fills the   
hollow, bitter space inside of her.  
  
Breath comes in ragged gasps as she grows colder and colder.  
  
Her blood is just that, blood. It has severed the purpose it was invented for. And so has she.  
  
They'll find an empty corpse in the bathroom. What will they think?  
  
Dawn doesn't care.   
  
Let someone else care now.  



	4. Xander: Cut

He looks at the knife.  
  
It just sits there.  
  
He's not sure how to do this. He's killed hundreds of demons before. He's staked numerous   
vampires.  
  
But he's never killed a human.  
  
Picking it up, he places it against his throat. The cool steel sends his heart beating faster.   
Ragged breathing as he pushes harder, feeling it cut into his skin. This is what it has been   
invented for, to cut flesh.  
  
He can hear the drops of blood splat as they cascade to the floor. The bitter pain fills his   
mouth, fills his lungs.  
  
It fills him.  
  
Exit Xander.  



	5. Willow: Fight

The claws swish over her head.  
  
She could end it now. Three words and this demon would be disembowelled.  
  
But she won't.  
  
Slime cascades down the demon's face. The demon attacks with it's other hand, ripping flesh   
from bone.   
  
She cries out in pain and collapses. The flesh hangs in ragged strips. The demon slashes again,   
tearing part of her face. Slime enters her mouth, burning and bitter.  
  
A few whispered words and the demon disintegrates. This spell was invented to be used when the   
caster was in great danger.  
  
She is dying from its poison slime.  
  
There's no cure.  



	6. Anya: Sleep

The pills taste bitter.   
  
If she had known they would taste this way, she might have tried something else.   
  
But it's too late now.   
  
When she came come and saw Xander laying there, his throat cut, she had fell down and cried.   
  
She knows he did it. She could invent some story about demons coming to get him. But demons   
would have ripped his ragged,  
not cut his throat.   
  
Her eyes become blurry from the tears cascading down her face.   
  
Yawning, she lays down on their bed. Their sent lingerer on the bed sheets, filling her   
nostrils.   
  
Then, she sleeps.  



	7. Tara: Dangle

Everyone's dead.   
  
She's the only once left.   
  
How could they? She bitterly thinks.   
  
She's been left alone, left to carry on. Left with the ragged remains of love. Left with tears   
cascading down her face. Left alone.   
  
In her hands is her savior.   
  
Rope was invented to hold things together. Now it will hold her body in the air.  
  
The corse material rubs against her neck and pulls tight as she steps off of the chair.   
  
She kicks, stuggleing against the lack of oxygen. But, before too long, she stops kicking. The   
darkness envlopes her.   
  
She falls into the void.   
  
  



End file.
